Jacob Hardy Bennett III
by Kazzy
Summary: Jackfic. Just who is our favourite captain? Rewritten.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Jack-vig. Just who is everyone's favourite captain?  
**Disclaimer: **I would quite happily own Jack. But I don't.  
**Notes: **This was initially written before any announcements about _Torchwood_, so please keep that in mind as you read it. Although, it would have been AU-ish anyway.

Adapted for my prompt table (claim: Captain Jack Harkness). Link to the table in my profile.

**Prompt: **024: Family

Please take the time to read and review. You honest comments mean the world to me!

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Jack Harkness was not the name that he had been born with. No, the name that was on his birth records, carefully altered by the Time Agency, was Jacob Hardy-Bennett III. He'd never actually been called Jacob though. His grandfather had been Jacob, his father had been Jake. That left only Jack for him, which he didn't mind, because at least Jack was his own, and he didn't have to share with his cold father, or his manipulative grandfather.

Jacob Hardy I had been a criminal lawyer. Jacob Hardy-Bennett II had been a corporate lawyer. Rhiannon Hardy-Bennett had been a corporate lawyer. Jacob Hardy-Bennett III didn't have the stomach for law. But law had been the family business for so many generations, on both sides of the family that he had just been expected to follow suit.

There are still some days that he wonders if somehow, he was pushed into being a Time Agent by this tradition, as if he couldn't quite escape his family's tie to the law, of one sort or another. But he enjoyed – enjoys – travelling through time so much he doesn't lend much weight to the theory, even at his darkest times. Still it was better with the Doctor and Rose, where there were no real laws only a creed, one that made infinitely more sense than any a human could create.

At eighteen, he had announced to his parents that he would not go to the same university – one of the most exclusive in the galaxy – that his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents had gone to; that he would not study law. It had taken all the courage that he had possessed to look both his parents in the eye and tell them that at the dinner table. He didn't tell them why, not because he didn't have the words to tell them so, although he didn't, but because they never asked, and never gave him the chance to try.

In the shouting match that had followed, his little sister, Penny, barely ten-years-old, was so scared she had hidden under the table. Jack had been the one who had found her hours later, curled up in a ball, hands still covering ears as she slept, tear tracks on her pained face. When he'd gone to her room, after packing his bags, he'd found her not in bed, and the nanny in a panic, too afraid to disturb is furious parents. In the end, after calming the nanny, he'd put Penny to be and told her a story, kissed her goodnight and goodbye. Goodbye for good, and he hasn't seen her since.

From what he's heard, she'd learned well that day, and she is now practising law herself, but married to a nurse. Her only acts of rebellion were that it is environmental law – far inferior to the lofty ambitions their parents had held for their children – and she doesn't live on Earth, which is after all 'the only place you're supposed to live'. He hopes she's happy. He hopes she forgives him, but he would understand if she doesn't, because he knows how it feels to be betrayed and alone, and that forgiveness doesn't roll naturally off the tongue.

It was that day he truly became Jack Harkness, legally as well, and he's never really looked back. No one really expects anything of Jack Harkness and he prefers it that way. While he's not interested in anonymity, becoming someone else meant that only those who he wanted to find him could. The day he left home, he ceased to be any part of his parents and became his own person. Uncontrolled by centuries of dictated will, money and power.

At the university he had chosen, he started with engineering, his first love, but then branched out to history and politics, coming dangerously close to the law he'd been avoiding. _Close, but so distant,_ he liked to tell himself. The subjects wouldn't have tempted his parents to have him home again, but then he hadn't taken them for that reason, wouldn't have waved his choices at them even if he thought it might work. Not that there'd been much hope of that ever working: If the bouncing messages to his sister were any indication then he probably wouldn't have been accepted back, even if he did play dutiful son. There are some sins that can never be forgiven. His parents are purists, and to them betrayal is betrayal and traitors should not be forgiven.

Jack had always been able to find comfort in places other than family. He's good-looking, which he acknowledges widely, cheerfully. The pain of his past is there as well, hovering enticingly under the open, friendly face he presents to the universe, though he never really realises that many of his partners chose him for this reason. Though to be fair many just go for the handsome face and welcoming smile. Either way, both sexes are attractive, and he's never had any trouble finding partners. Most people will respond if you smile at them right.

Still, even he could, and did, fall in love. But love is blind, and just as easy to fall out of again. Hearts can be and often are broken, sometimes the pieces are too hard to pick up and reconstruct. The more feeling there is involved, the more weapons you have to hurt others, the more destruction you can wreck. He'd gotten engaged at twenty, married at twenty-one and divorced before his twenty-second birthday.

He's never seen his son, but not from lack of trying.

By the time the Time Agents had approached him two years later, he was well and truly furious with the universe. It could go to hell, and rot there, as far as he was concerned. He was bound set and determined to get as much from the universe, which had taken so much from him, as he could. So the thought of travelling through time and space being heroic was thoroughly unappealing. However, the thought that it could possibly open doors to see his son or sister _was_ very appealing. He hadn't realised then that they would make him take vows that forbade such visits.

In many ways, every other recruit in the Agency was exactly like him. Disenfranchised, orphans usually, or estranged from their families. Yet, some had an empty expression in their eyes that made them look dead, and for all his anger at the universe, Jack found them unnerving. Others found their purpose in their training, and in some ways, they were just as bad – almost maniacal in their attempts to protect time. He avoided both types. At his darkest, he wondered which of them he resembled the most, whether through reality or through the daily façade he played.

Not long after he'd become a full agent, he was out one night intent on getting himself good and drunk – not to mention finding a good partner to spend the night – when he met Namir. Part-human and part-Tigal, Namir had tabby-patterned fur that covered most of his body, and he purred when happy. He was also a lawyer, and Jack found himself appreciating the irony.

Their first meeting had not begun in a particularly fortuitous fashion, as it had included spilt Helytin Whisky, a ruined outfit, sticky fur and a bar fight. Still, it ended with them back at Jack's apartment in a mutual appreciation of each other's bodies. Jack can still remember how the fur on Namir's back felt when rubbed, silky and sleek, warm and alive, much like the man who wore it. And there is still a part of Jack that will always belong to Namir for the way he helped make Jack into who he is.

He doesn't remember accepting the assignment that ended with his memory being wiped, but sometimes he thinks that it's probably better this way. To remove so much of a person's life is a messy task, and would only have been done under special circumstances. Even if he manages to retrieve his memories, Jack isn't completely sure he'd survive a meeting with that much of his soul; there is a part of him that is terrified of the past and what it might be hiding. And yet, he still rages at the loss, still desperately searches through the far reaches of his mind to try and drag his memories forward.

The universe is a big place, and there are faster ways to earn a living – if you don't mind inflicting the occasional shallow wound on others. One of the reasons he hasn't seen Namir since before he left the Time Agents is that he knows his lover and friend would never have approved of his conman routine, would have seen straight through it to Jack's core. To be honest Jack never really approved of his new career himself. He was raised to be better than that, and he may have left his family behind a long time ago, but breeding is sometimes harder to throw away.

Of course, when you're taught how to be a charming host from the cradle, it does come in handy when you're conning some dimwit Agent into buying whatever piece of space junk you've yanked through time. Also, it helps when rescuing a young woman floating on a barrage balloon above London, then convincing her to fall for you (or at least fall into bed with you) and buy aforementioned space junk.

Saving Rose and sweeping her off her feet was so easy. Open and trusting, Rose fully believed in the debonair Captain Jack Harkness at first. But she was a little smarter than most, and had an over-protective, possessive Time Lord waiting to fry anyone who tried anything on her, so Jack didn't get very far. Later, it was something he was glad for, because it's so much harder to face someone you've betrayed.

Rose loves others without reserve, and she was only the second to love Jack and not expect anything in return. In many ways, she and Namir were very similar, despite some obvious differences. It's not hard to love Rose, and he knows he can do so and not be hurt by her, because she'd never do anything deliberately painful to anyone else.

So he's glad he never slept with Rose, because in many ways she reminds him of his little sister, too. Once he knew her properly, he could never use her in the ways he's used other because he can still remember the way Penny hid under the table and had no one to tell her that it was all right, she was safe and loved. Rose isn't Penny in too many ways to count, but part of him feels he can love her more than he was ever able to love Penny. And that maybe, just maybe, loving Rose can make up for leaving Penny in the lion's den. He's not sure of that, but he hopes it means something.

And with Rose comes the Doctor, who has become part-friend, part-brother and part-guide. In Jack's mind, these two extraordinary people make the ultimate double act – more of a single whole than two separate pieces and he loves them both equally, because Rose loved him and the Doctor expected more of him. Together, they gave Jack a reason to look in the mirror in the morning.

He meant what he said, when he told the Doctor he was better off a coward, but he's glad he isn't anymore. A coward wouldn't have been loved by Rose and respected by the Doctor. A coward wouldn't have been on the TARDIS, and have found a home at long last. As a coward, his life would have been easier, but it would have been hollow, and while part of him knows he could live with hollow, another part of him knows that it wasn't really living.

It was easy to give up his life for the Doctor, because he knew the Doctor was capable of saving everyone. Jack had been alive at last, and he knew that was enough. If that was all then it still would have been enough. But Rose, was safe and that was more than Jack could ask for. Beautiful, brilliant Rose was safe, the Doctor had seen to that. If Jack hadn't been granted the same treatment, then he knew it wasn't because he wasn't loved.

When he died, he did so hoping he had given the Doctor just enough time to win. If his death accomplished the end of the Daleks, it would be more than worth the sacrifice. And it seems that someone, somewhere, appreciated his actions, because the Daleks are dust, literally nothing more than small piles of ash on the floor of Satellite Five. He lets the dust slip through his fingers and marvels at the way something so terrible is really something so small, and old, and dead.

The sounds of the TARDIS disappearing catches his attention and he runs, but with the certain knowledge that he's too late. They think he's dead and no one waits for the dead. But for the first time, he knows what it's like to grieve for the lost, and knowing that they might be doing the same for him only makes it worse. He's alone on this graveyard filled with the casualties of war, surrounded only by angry ghosts.

Jack should be among those ghosts, and he doesn't quite know why he isn't. He was dead; his companions' departure proves that, as they wouldn't leave without being certain. But now he is alive, miraculously breathing in sour, recycled air, and in his chest, his heart is beating a steady thump-thump, while his feet sound a discordant rhythm on the metal floors.

Alive.

Alone.

Yet, he's been that a lot, and if it only hurts more now than it ever did before, it doesn't mean much. If there's one thing Jack Harkness is good at it's surviving. He's done it before, and he'll do it again. He has to, because dying here on this soulless metal trap, above a shattered Earth would be a disservice to everyone who's ever been important to him: to his sister and his son, to Namir, to Rose and the Doctor.

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**A/N: **All my love is for Captain Jack, and I don't wanna share. However, if you are very nice and review, I'll let you borrow him for a while.

_Sister_ is a companion piece to this – set in the same world, and features Jack's sister Penny.


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt – **093: Hide  
**Claim – **Captain Jack Harkness  
**Summary – **When Penny was ten her brother Jack left home.  
**Disclaimer – **Not mine.  
**Notes – **This is scene is mentioned briefly in _Jacob Hardy-Bennett III_, which is on my prompt table, under prompt 024: Family. It should be able to be read alone, but I'm also going to tell you to read _Jacob Hardy-Bennett III_, because it's my fic, and I'm not afraid of shameless plugging a little self-promotion.

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No one noticed when young Penny hid under the table. She felt safer under there, because it was darker and while the heavy, ancient wood above her did nothing to stop the raging voices, now she could only see her family's legs, and that much, much better than their angry faces.

The things that were being said were horrific, even more so than usual. Penny had never heard them all so angry. Even at ten she could sense the raw emotion coming out, and none of it was pleasant. Jack and her parents fought often, over many things – there was not a lot that eighteen-year-old Jack could do right, and their mother and father seemed to take all opportunities to remind him of this. However, tonight it seemed that everything had boiled over, and just because Jack had said he wanted to be an engineer and not a lawyer, sending everything spinning out of control.

So far tonight her brother had been called so many names: _slacker, irresponsible, childish, short-sighted, good-for-nothing, slut_. Of course, her brother had a few of his own to throw back: _blind, overbearing, out-of-touch, oppressive_. Penny didn't bother trying to figure out what all of the words meant, because she knew some of them, and that was more than enough.

When her father's voice reached a certain pitch, and she heard skin hitting skin, she covered her ears with her hands, squeezed her eyes shut, and rocked back and forth, trying to imagine she was somewhere else, in a family that didn't shout at each other. Maybe she and Jack could run away and find that family, or maybe they could go and be that family. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

So involved in her fantasy was she that she failed to notice when the voices had stopped, and she'd been left alone. She drifted off to sleep, into uncomfortable dreams, arms and legs tucked in a small, painful ball around her body.

"Penny?" At her brother's voice she roused to find him half under the table, looking at her in concern. A darker patch across his cheek bone indicated a painful bruise, matching the cut on his lip. Still, he opened up his arms and without a thought she leapt into them. This was her security.

Jack helped her up and to the bathroom where he cleaned her tear-streaked face off with a cool cloth, before helping her to bed. Her nanny usually did this, but Alesie didn't show up, and when she asked, Jack said that he was having a turn at putting her to bed. At her request he told her a story that made her laugh – Jack was best at those stories, even if she didn't always understand them – then he kissed her goodnight.

That was when he said goodbye, and she never saw him again.

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Please review.


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